Put Your Hands Up
by Amelia-Williams-Pond
Summary: Alyssa Fenton knew the Winchesters. She came when they called, and vice versa. This is the story of the last first time Sam and Dean answered her. Bad summary. Co-written with AGates.


The library was silent, save for the hum of the lights and the rustle of pages turning. She was the only one there, and they were late.

She sighed, leafing her way through another book. Research had never been her favorite part.

The door opened with a gust of wind that ruffled the pages and almost made her lose her place. Not a minuet later, two men sat at her table. She glared across the table at them.

"You're late."

The shorter of the two smirked. "Sorry, sweetheart, there was a Tulpa that we had to take care of down in Tallahassee before coming down here."

"What have I said about calling me 'sweetheart', Dean?" she asked, her annoyance evident in her tone.

He chuckled. "You know you love it."

She shook her head, but it was good-natured.

The other man smiled slightly. "It's good to see you, Alyssa."

"You, too, Sam," she responded returning the slight smile.

"What, I don't get a hello?" Dean asked.

"You wasted it on 'sweetheart'," she quipped in response.

"Fine, be that way," he said as he grabbed a file off the table. "So, what are we saving your pretty little ass from?"

"Not _my_ ass, thanks. There's a hellhound running around, but the damn thing won't go anywhere near me."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "Isn't avoiding a hellhound a _good_ thing?"

"Yeah, just avoiding dogs in general is a good thing."

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Dean, it's going after civilians."

"How many has it taken?" Sam asked, using the word 'taken' instead of 'killed' because the librarian was right there, though she probably would've thought them to be taking about a book or something.

"Four so far, and if it sticks to the pattern, another tonight."

"And you just called us in tonight?" Dean asked.

"No, I called you yesterday, and I didn't get here until Thursday myself."

She noticed Dean's eyes drifting down and pulled her jacket tighter around her chest- she hated when he did this. He noticed what she had done and smirked. Sam noticed, too, and frowned.

"To stay on topic," he began, gaining the attention of both of them. "How do you know it's a hellhound."

"Fits the profile."

"Except for the whole 'not going after you' thing," Dean cut in.

"Why do you think I've been sifting through all these books? I haven't slept since Wednesday night, or eaten, that matter."

"Oh, so you're trying to work yourself into a fatigue?" Dean asked. "There's a motel _across the street_."

"You know how I get when I'm on a case, Dean, don't act like it's something new."

"He's right, Alyssa," Sam said, and the certain softness in his tone told her he was trying to not piss her off. It was enough to make her smile as he continued. "You need fuel."

"I'm fine."

"You're not. Go eat something, or sleep. Do you have a room yet?"

She looked a little sheepish, knowing Dean would only freak out further from there. "No."

She was right. "Alyssa, you can't just go for fifty-six hours without sleeping or eating! We're at the place right there-" he pointed out the window to across the street- "In room eleven. Ask for an adjoining room and go to bed."

"I'm fine, Dean. Not even tired."

"Bullshit. Now, are you going to go quietly, or will I have to drag you there myself?"

"Neither, because I'm fine and I'm not going."

"I will carry you," he threatened, getting genuinely mad at her. She was going to work herself to the point of making a mistake, and that was going to get her hurt- or worse...

"I don't care."

Without a word, he stood up. She stared at him. On the other side of the table, Sam sighed, pulling one of the books closer to him. This would take a while.

"You're not serious."

"I am. Get up."

"I'm not going to help you drag me away."

"Suit yourself," Dean responded, and bent over and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder like one would carry a bag of cement. But this was much harder, as cement doesn't often struggle.

"Dean Winchester, put me down!" she protested, hitting and kicking at him as much as she could. He only kept a hold on her through pure brute force, and because she was, in fact, drained.

"Not a chance."

"Goddammit, Dean!" They had left the library and were starting across the street. "I'm fine!"

"You're exhausted," he responded, readjusting. She flailed harder for a moment, sequentially kneeing his ribcage and smacking him upside the head.

"Watch where you're putting those hands!" she demanded.

He smirked, and tightened his grip. "When I have to force you to take care of yourself like this, I have every right."

"You have _no_ right, and as soon as you set me down, I'm going to punch you."

"I look forward to it." He paused to open the door to his and Sam's room, and she almost wrestled out of his grasp, but he caught her before she fell and carried her in, slamming the door with his foot and throwing her forcefully onto one of the beds.

She sat up angrily. "I'm a big girl, Dean, I can handle myself, and I know my limits." She tried to get up as he turned on the lights, but he put one hand on her chest and pushed her back down. True to her word, she caught the side of his face in a hard punch, and another for good measure.

He brought a hand to his jaw. "This is the kind of thanks I get for looking out for you? Can't wait to see what you do when I ignore you."

She tried to get up again, and he decided he'd had enough. He leapt on top of her, tackling her to the bed in such a way he was straddling her; his hands pinning her wrists to the bed.

"You're not leaving this room until I say so," he told her, "And so help me God, I will drug you if that's what it takes to get you to just sleep."

She glared at him. "Dean, I'm not a child!"

He glared right back. "Then why are you acting like one? You're acting like a tired little girl who doesn't want to go to bed yet," he growled.

This statement caught in her mind. She hated letting time slip by, but normally when she pulled a stunt like this, the Winchesters were by her side from the first moment of the case.

Dean smirked triumphantly when she relaxed and looked away. He deemed it safe enough to get off of her now, so he stood and looked down at her as she rubbed her wrists.

"Are you gonna get some shut-eye?"

She nodded slowly. "Yeah..." She glared up at him again, "But you better wake me up in four hours."

He shrugged as he stepped over to the door. "Sure, cupcake. Whatever you say."

"Dean, four hours. If you don't wake me it'll be too late for me to help you with the case."

"Fine, but since you're pissed at me, I'll send Sam with food."

Alyssa nodded, and laid back. Dean waited until she closed her eyes to open the door and leave, locking her in from the outside.


End file.
